One Lavender Ribbon (35 page)

W
ill worked his dive gear into his bag, wishing the deep burn in his stomach would go away. He’d sat up late with Pops, his mom and dad alongside as the four of them wasted the hours until bedtime. He had to admit, his parents knew how to care for someone hurting. His mom made tea and served it while the men assembled on the front porch. Pops had removed his watch and tapped it against his leg, held it to his ear, then tapped it again. Charles took the timepiece and used a pocket knife to open the back. He worked methodically, cleaning out dust and then rewinding the watch. When he finished, he handed it back to Pops. Pops remained quiet, but that was okay. There was more power, more strength, Will realized, in quiet comfort than in words, when the company was comprised of those most loved.

Yes, his mom and dad had their strengths. Will glanced at the house from his driveway once his dive gear was packed and loaded into his trunk. He considered going back in and making sure Pops would be okay. But a niggling little voice inside told him to let his mom and dad have some time alone with Pops. It’d be good for all of them.

Heartache was heartache, no matter the age of the recipient. Sara remained on the back deck for most of the morning. Her eyes were swollen and red. Adrienne figured a sleepless night was the culprit. She hadn’t slept much herself and had repeatedly gone to Sara’s door. She never knocked, just listened for the sound of the older woman breathing. Once, in the wee hours of the morning, she had stood there several minutes, listening to the old woman cry.

“Would you like more coffee, Sara?” she asked, sticking her head out the back door.

Haunted eyes trailed down to the full cup in her hands. “Oh, no dear.”

Adrienne stepped out. “I’m sure that’s cold. Let me take it for you.”

Frail fingers lifted the cup to Adrienne. “You were right. I should have told him.”

Adrienne swallowed hard and dropped quietly into the chair adjacent to Sara.

“But I never expected . . . a marriage proposal. That changed everything.”

The full cup was abandoned on the side table as Adrienne reached to take Sara’s hand. “How did things change?”

She brushed the soft white hair from her face. “We were building a friendship, maybe even falling in love, but . . . you can’t go into a marriage with a lie like that between you. And now it’s too late.” Sara focused her attention down the beach.

Adrienne followed her gaze and noticed the man tossing a bait net into the water. It was mesmerizing, really. The way he folded and draped the net over his shoulder, how it spun outward and into a perfect circle as he cast. “I’m sure the two of you will work things out and get beyond this.”

Sara pivoted to look at her. “There’s no getting beyond this. I ruined it again. Second chances are wonderful if you know what to do with them.”

Adrienne had no more words of encouragement, so she stayed quiet.

“Don’t let love slip through your fingers, Adrienne. When the net is cast upon you, don’t get spooked and scurry away.” Sara turned back to the beach. “It’s a lonely ocean when you’re all alone.”

Adrienne’s heart shattered into a few more jagged pieces. So much so, she barely heard the doorbell. Heavily laden with Sara’s grief, she ambled to the door. Shock registered first in her fingers and toes, then shot a path directly to her heart. “Will,” she whispered.

He was a statue, eyes cool, body board straight. “Wasn’t my idea to come. Pops wants to see Sara.” Adrienne moved out of the way as Pops, then Charles, and then Peg moved past her. Will was last.

Adrienne forced her attention to Pops, not Will. “She’ll be so happy to see you. She’s out on the back deck.”

“Thank you.” With his shoulders hunched forward, he shuffled to the back of the house.

Adrienne searched Peg’s face for an answer.

“He feels he owes her an apology. Leaving the way he did.”

Beside his mother, Will made a disgusted sound. “She’s the one who stormed off.”

Peg whipped around to face her son. “William Jefferson Bryant!”

Adrienne’s eyes rounded.

“Yes, she stormed off. After a
proposal
. A
marriage
proposal, Will. You may not understand, but for women, that’s a very big deal. Monumental, in fact. No matter how old you are.”

A dimple in Will’s cheek quirked, his jaw muscle furiously working.

Oh dear. And Adrienne thought
she’d
had a rough morning.

When Pops and Sara stood to walk down the beach, Adrienne offered coffee to the others left behind. She could only imagine the conversation going on outside, but she knew she had to tell them about the letters. Sara was breaking the news to Pops—of this she was certain. But she wouldn’t force the old woman to repeat it again. So she explained. The fact that Grace wouldn’t write. And how Sara had feared William wouldn’t have the will to survive without the hope letters from home could bring. All of it. Charles and Peg took it in with little response, but Will’s frown became a scowl. “Did you know this the whole time?”

“No, Will,” Adrienne huffed. “I found out the night of the military celebration. Sara knew she’d have to tell him one day, but she thought they were still building a friendship.”

His chin jutted forward. “A friendship based on lies.”

Adrienne’s anger flared. “Look, life isn’t as easy as you seem to think. And love complicates everything. Sara made a mistake.” She stepped toward him, squaring off and daring him to stop her. “She has been in love with him since she was fourteen years old. Do you know why Sara never married?”

Will swallowed and leaned back, out of the trajectory of her words that seemed to be pelting him like little poison darts.

Adrienne took his movement as an invitation to take one more step toward him. “She never got over Pops. Her whole life. Sixty years of loving a man she thought she’d never have.” When she realized she’d moved so close that their bodies were nearly touching, she pulled a breath and took a step back.

Will remained silent.

“She was terrified of losing him again, and if you can’t understand that, you’re far more heartless than I ever imagined.”

Will opened his mouth, but no words came. He rubbed a hand across his chin and muttered, “Okay.”

Peg reached up from the couch and took her son by the hand. “You can’t protect Pops from everything.”

Adrienne watched him flash a tiny smile at his mother.

After what felt like an eternity—but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes—Pops and Sara returned. Unable to read their body language from a distance, Adrienne sighed with relief when they topped the beach steps and Pops’s hand slid into Sara’s.

He paused in the living room, resting a palm on the fireplace mantle. “I’ve never been a brilliant man. Average, I’d call myself. But I’m not ashamed of that. Right proud, I am. I’ve made it my life goal to be a good man. That’s about all. The good Lord has always smiled down on me. And once again, I find myself obtaining what I don’t deserve. Years back, two girls moved here from North Carolina with their momma.

“Many a lazy afternoon was spent on the water. Swimming or fishing,” he said.

He glanced back at the others. “I know I’m rambling, but it’s important to me that you all understand.” No one moved or made a sound.

“I joined the Army in ’42. And someone from home began to write to me.” As if suddenly reliving the war, Pops gripped the mantle more tightly to stabilize himself. “Unless you’ve experienced war, you can’t imagine it—the uncertainty, the stark reality of death that accompanies every breathing moment. We men had only each other. We fought for each other, we even cried for each other”—his gaze fell to the floor—“and sometimes we died for each other. Maybe that’s why the letters were so important to me. It reminded me that there was another world. I loved the men I served with, loved them like brothers. We were connected on a level only men in battle can understand. But I’d joined that war for another purpose. And as I would read the letters from home, I was reminded of that. I was reminded about the scent of magnolia in the summertime, blackberries in the spring, the ocean water crashing against the sand. And as I read those letters, I fell in love. Love for real.” His gaze went to Sara again. “Do you hear me, Sara? I fell in love with you sixty years ago through the letters.”

She no longer hid the tears. With one blink, they silently slipped down her cheeks.

“And that’s why I want my family to hear me when I ask this.” He moved to her and took her hand, pulling her up into his arms. Once face to face, he said, “Sara, will you marry me?”

Her voice was shaky, but no one could mistake the words. “Yes—yes, I will.”

Bittersweet happiness mingled with the pain of Adrienne’s own personal loss. The two warring factions fought their way through her body. She chose to dwell on the happiness. It had all begun with a letter, a simple handwritten letter, faded from long ago, and a determination to right the wrongs of the past. Though there’d been devastating bumps in this rocky road, things were turning out beautifully for Sara and Pops. And horribly for her. Refusing to let herself wallow in it, she moved toward them, arms outstretched, and hugged the family she had to say good-bye to.

He’d wanted to leave Adrienne’s house but was unable to get anyone on board with that plan. Everyone was all “Oooh-aaah, let’s make wedding plans.” Had they failed to remember this woman had lied to Pops? For years?

Will ran an angry hand through his hair and left the happy family inside. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, a warning to remain on land. Wind kicked sand onto his legs as he cast a glance through the window, where he spotted Pops waltzing in the kitchen with a delighted Sara.

Okay, fine. Maybe Adrienne
did
have a better handle on what his family needed. Maybe he
didn’t
always know what was best. Will picked up a shell. He examined it for a moment, then tossed it into the sea, just as Pops had done the day before.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Will knew that Adrienne was the best thing to ever walk into his life. If the two of them could just be airlifted to a secluded island, they’d have a shot. Will slipped his hands into his pockets and was strolling down the beach when his father’s voice drifted out to him. Will closed his eyes.

“Wait up, Will,” Charles said, trying to bridge the gap between them. He was smiling when he made it to his son. “Can I walk along with you?”

Will gestured around him. “It’s a public beach.”

Charles swallowed and let his gaze fall to the sand. His words were low, lacking the initial cheer. “I mean, would you mind company?”

Guilt shot through Will. This was his father. And he loved him. He just was so
angry
with him. “Sure, Dad. I’d like company,” he managed, and almost meant it.

Charles knelt to examine a coconut washed up on shore. “I need to talk to you, Will.” He rose and buried his hands in his own pockets, mimicking Will. Charles stared out to the horizon. “I’ve needed to for a long time.”

Will bristled.

Charles’ gaze moved to his son, tentatively. “Why are you so angry with me?”

Will could avert this discussion. He’d done it many times. But in the last couple of months he’d learned some things. And one of the biggest lessons was about things not always being as they appeared.

“Dad, it’s not that I’m angry.”

“No,” Charles interrupted, uncharacteristically, “It is, but I don’t know why.”

Will stared at him. “Are you kidding?”

The look in Charles’s eyes conveyed only confusion.

Will shook his head. “You ditched us, Dad. Not once, but twice.”

Charles frowned, still not getting it.

“You left your family for people you don’t even know. You did it once, and then when Pops needed you most, you did it again. For
strangers,
Dad.”

The older man slowly turned from Will. Tears stung his eyes as he stared at the storm clouds.

Studying his face, Will could see the lines, now deeper than he remembered. How long had his dad had the streaks of white-gray hair that peppered his temples? Suddenly, his dad looked old. Frail. As if Will’s confession had aged him twenty years right before his eyes.